Sweet Sister
by Amber Everfor
Summary: Hansel and Gretel is a dark story of hunger and desperation, selfishness and child estrangement. Sexualized, it's an inevitable romp for a grown brother and sister who can only depend on each other. The world be damned.


Sounds of splashing greeted Gretel as she approached the creek. She gasped at the sight of a blond head and golden brown bare back. _He's here?_ _I thought he was working. _She darted behind one of the dark green bushes, pushing leaves on either side away so she could peek at the bather.

He stood slightly angled and his penis was prominent. Her hand flew to her throat, then slowly lowered, until she caressed her nipples the way he caressed himself. He threw back his head as his hand worked faster and hers dropped below her stomach. He must have found a rock or something in the creek to prop up a leg and he now stood like a statue, his wide chest reddened by the sun just creeping into that end of the sky, coloring his blond hair a myriad of golds and reds, still pumping with his hand. Gretel propped up her own leg and pulled her skirts high, to reach her corresponding area, exploring herself for the first time, with him as her guide.

The neckline of her blouse again fell as she rubbed her hand faster over herself. Her pointed breasts begged for release and she unlaced her corset to pull back the fabric, exposing them to the new sun. She touched her taut nipples, while pushing her hips up and down, as he did. Pleasure coursed through her, escaping in a sigh, louder than she'd realized. He stopped and seemed to look straight through the bush where she hid. Their eyes met.

"Come out, Gretel," he said, voice hoarse with excitement. Her heart caught in her throat then a smile snuck out onto her face. She edged out from the bush, skirt catching on the pointed black-green leaves.

Hansel stared, unbelieving. Her breasts winked at him under the gaping corset and her uplifted skirt revealed beautiful, long legs. The world might not approve of brother and sister looking at each in such a way, but the world had taken away her mother when she was only seven and most needed her. And the world had given her the horrible Maria.

_The world be damned,_ her father would say when he did something unconventional.

Gretel blushed a charming rose color, as she stepped out of the skirt and divested of everything else, to stand amongst the trees as a curvaceous column of maiden ideal. Hansel licked his lips, dry in spite of being in the water. He resisted the urge to touch himself again, when there was something so much better to touch.

_Mother's necklace, _he said to himself. He knew their father had given her the wooden heart on a long cord that their mother had worn, but he'd never seen her wear it. It wasn't around her neck, but slung low on her hips, with the glazed cherry heart dangling just over her pubis. Her strategic braids drew his eyes back to her enchanting chest as she walked down the hill, nearing the creek, coming to him.

Her firm, round buttocks swayed as she strolled. It was more than Maria could stand. She'd already grabbed Hansel's clothes while he was preoccupied, before Gretel's arrival, and she'd made her way through the trees past the brazen girl. Now, she took Gretel's clothes too. "I knew it," she snarled as she came out of hiding.

Gretel whipped her head around, moving her hands to cover herself. Hansel stood with his arms at his side, defiant in his nudity.

"You, sinful pair," said Maria. "Now, your father will believe me and you will never be allowed in his house again."

"You crone," cried Gretel, starting up the path in pursuit of the retreating woman and her incriminating bundle.

"No, Gretel," said Hansel as he grabbed her arm.

"Let me go," she demanded.

"No. Gretel, you can't go back to the house with no clothes. You're only proving what Maria tells him. We must leave."

"Leave?" She shook her head in refusal, her braids whipping around her as they'd done when she was a little girl.

"Father won't accept us now. We don't belong here anymore."

Tears flowed from the sky-blue eyes like rain. "Father won't want me? Where can we go? What are we going to do, put boughs on our bodies like Adam and Eve?"

"I will take you somewhere safe," said a soothing female voice behind them. They turned their heads back to the brook, seeing only an enormous white swan. "Come, children," the fowl said from its carrot orange and oil black beak. "I am Cygna. I can take you to a house made of gingerbread where you can be as close to each other as you'd like."

Gretel stared at the creature. She thought she'd imagined she'd heard it, until Hansel turned on his typical bright smile and ran back to the water. "A house made of gingerbread. Perfect for my sweet sister. Come, Gretel."

Standing naked, Gretel turned her head in the direction of the house. All she could imagine was her father's disfavor, something she couldn't abide. Sniffling, she dropped her head and trudged down to the bank of the creek where Hansel and the talking swan waited. "We still have no clothes," she pointed out.

The swan laughed…laughed. "As long as you're with me, no one can see or hear you."

"Are you sure?" Gretel asked, climbing on the bird's wide back, in front of her equally naked brother.

"There's someone," said Cygna. "Say hello."

Gretel looked up and gasped when she saw the someone was Rolf.

"Hi ho, Rolf," shouted Hansel, who seemed to be enjoying himself.

The descendant of Vikings continued down the path with his axe over his shoulder, whistling and oblivious to the giant talking water bird and the bare brother and sister.

"See?" said the swan. "Are you ready?"

Gretel nodded with sad resignation. Her mood improved slightly as they glided over the water. There was probably not a smoother mode of transportation anywhere, than riding a giant swan on a docile creek. She squinted at the high sun, wondering when and how she'd return to her home.

Hansel pointed out a baby fox running with its mother and dropped his hand on her leg. He shifted and lowered his head to hers. "We're going to be fine, my sweet sister. I'll take care of you." He finished his promise with a pucker on her neck.

Cygna had been given the ability to sense anxiety or the possibility of one changing their mind about continuing the journey. Aware of both Gretel's nervousness as they neared the village and Hansel's barely controlled desire, she said, "They can't see or hear you. You could do anything in front of them and they wouldn't know."

"Anything?" Hansel asked. "I could kiss Gretel in front of the miller, there, and he wouldn't see?"

"Try it," dared Cygna.

Curious and concentrating on his plump lips, not hidden by a beard, Gretel submitted to her brother wrapping his arms around her and leaning closer. She smiled after his first soft kiss on her lips, in front of the miller and Farmer Peiter. He lingered, placing a hand on her cheek.

"My sweet sister," he whispered hoarsely. His tongue sought entry to her mouth. She welcomed him in, enjoying breaking taboo with her brother in the presence of their former school mistress, who strolled past them. Hansel's kisses became hungrier, bruising. He dropped his mouth to Gretel's breasts, sucking hard on the nipples until she moaned.

"Cygna, must I stay on your back?" he asked through desperate breaths.

The swan laughed again. "No, brother, you may do what you want and remain unseen."

Gretel cocked her head, curious about that exchange. Hansel hopped into the warm, chest-deep water and looked up at her with a smile, pulling her legs apart. She gasped as his tongue sought new entry, this time not waiting for invitation.

She leaned back her head and lifted her hips to allow him greater access. On the creek bank, young Rutger Larsen looked around furtively, before giving pretty Maud Samuels a chaste kiss. The contrast between that and her brother tonguing and munching her with gusto made her giggle.

Hansel laughed too, his mirth muffled by her curling pubic hair. "Cygna," he said again.

"Yes, you may," she answered. "Just made sure one of you is backed up against me."

Hansel pulled a curious Gretel into the water with him, her back to the waterfowl that might as well have been a wall. "My sweet sister." His wet cock slid into her, eliciting a shriek she still couldn't believe the villagers on the path didn't hear.

"Trust me, Gretel. I won't hurt you," he whispered, making small thrusts to accustom her to the feeling and rhythm. She responded, braced against the feathered wall, her heart and lungs palpitating, as she countered each push and mischievously waved to the cheese merchant's wife.

The novelty of passers-by faded, as Hansel gripped her more tightly and pressed more firmly. Her breaths were shorter and louder. Her burning skin seemed to have been opened for the sun to penetrate her, as Hansel had.

"I love you, Gretel," he shouted, slamming one final time. She answered with a scream, her legs falling limply from around his waist, her head lolling on his shoulder.

His exit was both a relief and a regret. She didn't think her body would ever feel the same or that it would ever stop tingling. Blood trickled from between her legs, to flow with the brook. Still recovering, Gretel and Hansel didn't notice as Cygna gulped it down.


End file.
